


Who Was Harry Hart Without His Pride?

by professor_hartwin



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Brain Injury, Harry Centric, Head Injury, Healing, Post Kentucky Shooting, Recovery, hurt!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor_hartwin/pseuds/professor_hartwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little look into how Harry would deal with recovering from his injury. </p><p>"Surviving a bullet to the head was, by itself, incredibly impressive and lucky. Harry knew that. Merlin and Eggsy reminded him of that everyday. It wasn’t that Harry had expected recovery to be easy, either. He knew the complications that could come along with head trauma. Paralysis, convulsions, seizures, memory loss. He didn’t expect to come away completely unscathed. </p><p>Harry also didn’t expect to handle it all so poorly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Was Harry Hart Without His Pride?

Harry had always been a proud man. It showed when he walked, when he spoke, even the way he wore his suit or ate. Harry prided himself in being a perfect gentleman, suave and regal. It wasn’t an act either- It was part of himself. Harry Hart was dignified, polished, refined. 

Not any longer. 

Surviving a bullet to the head was, by itself, incredibly impressive and lucky. Harry knew that. Merlin and Eggsy reminded him of that everyday. It wasn’t that Harry had expected recovery to be easy, either. He knew the complications that could come along with head trauma. Paralysis, convulsions, seizures, memory loss. He didn’t expect to come away completely unscathed. 

Harry also didn’t expect to handle it all so poorly. 

The first indication of a long term problem he noticed were the physical ones. 

His right hand trembled uncontrollably, to the point of not even being able to write in a straight line or feed himself without spilling food in his lap. It was incredibly frustrating and Harry often found himself going into fits of rage during physical therapy when he was unable to make a fist or pick up an item. 

He hadn’t gotten out of bed much, but when he did, he walked with a slight limp, left leg harder to move than his right. Eggsy had squeezed his hand with reassurance, told him that he was making great progress and that a little limp was nothing compared to what could have happened. Merlin promised they’d make him a beautiful cane with lethal abilities to help him walk easier and take some of the weight off his leg. 

He was lucky, he knew that. Harry was so thankful to just be alive, to be here, to be able to be with Eggsy again. Still, the idea that he might never be able to shoot a gun again? To fight? To walk properly? It was eating him up, bit by bit. Who was Harry Hart without his ability to be in the field, saving people? 

The other results of his injury took longer to show up and diagnose. The bouts of anger, sadness and confusion Harry was feeling was not simply caused by stress and frustration. No, the bullet had injured the left side of his brain, damaging his receptors and causing drastic mood swings, confusion and above all, anger. More often than not, Harry found himself screaming at Eggsy, throwing things to the floor and wanted to tear his hair out. He didn’t even know what he was doing until afterwards, when Eggsy would take him into his arms, whispering things of love despite the tears in his eyes. 

Harry hated feeling out of control, hated not being able to stop himself. He was genuinely terrified that one day he wouldn’t stop and he’d drastically hurt Eggsy or Merlin, the two people who had been there for him since he was brought back the HQ after being picked up from godforsaken Kentucky. 

The confusion, however, was sometimes worse than the anger.

Merlin would bring chess to play during his downtime, a way to distract Harry, as if he could pretend they were in his home, playing like they use to. It was a nice gesture, but ultimately did more harm than good.   
Harry found himself forgetting how to play, confused about how to make the best move, which strategy would be best. It wasn’t that he was losing his memory or anything of that nature- he just couldn’t make the best choices, couldn’t decide what was the best way. 

Harry’s job- his life- depended on Harry being witty and clever, able to outsmart his opponent. How would he be able to go back into the field when he couldn’t even beat Merlin, who went easy on him, in a simple game of chess.   
Not only could he not defend himself with weapons, he couldn’t even fight with logic anymore. 

Harry woke up to the feeling of a thumb brushing over his own and he opened his eyes to find Eggsy sitting next to him, smiling softly. 

“Morning, love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss Harry’s forehead. “Doc said you get to go home today, if you’re ready.” 

Harry thought for a moment. He was still struggling to come to terms with everything that had happened. He still found himself wanting to cry or scream when he thought that he might never get to work to his true potential again. He was worried that he’d never truly feel like “Harry Hart” again. 

With a deep breath, Harry looked up at Eggsy, giving his partner the biggest smile he could muster. 

“Never been more ready for anything,” he replied, bringing Eggsy’s hand to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it. “I’ve been gone for far too long.” 

Eggsy grinned and began to rant about random things- how he’d have to change the sheets before they went home, how JB missed Harry sneaking him bits of his food during dinner, how Daisy and his mum couldn’t wait to come visit. It was slightly overwhelming to listen to, but it did make Harry excited. He couldn’t wait to be back in their home, waking up next to Eggsy, sharing a cuppa while reading the paper in the garden on lazy mornings, JB snorting in his sleep under Harry’s feet. 

Harry Hart was far from being fixed. He still had miles to go in recovery. But still, being rolled out of the hospital and into the fresh mid-morning air, Eggsy beside him and Merlin behind him, Harry Hart felt anything but broken.


End file.
